


Ideas that didn't go anywhere

by RGmolpus



Series: You Are Warned! [11]
Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-20 03:29:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22942495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RGmolpus/pseuds/RGmolpus
Summary: Somethings should be left to dry on the beach of the imagination.....This 'Story' is where I will put fragments that I want to keep, but don't  seem to work as complete tales.Bad jokes, puns, and ideas.Quality isn't  guaranteed. Reader beware.-------I've decided to post the current accumulation of -not ready for prime time- stories, a sort of Christmas/New Years present. Enjoy!Steal anything you like, I hope someone gets motivated to take an idea and run with it.... to completion!--(the elf on the Shelf this year is either Chuckie or the Xuni Warrior Doll from Night Gallery...)
Series: You Are Warned! [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1221524
Comments: 16
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

Ivan was severely upset.

He had cause to be; floating in a bath of medical glycerine after that dam'd Cetagandan-by-way-of-Jackson's Whole bioweapon did it's thing on him.

The Medtechs had rigged an artificial voicebox to him, and something to make his ears work.

But, he's a mass of nerve fibers and intestines floating in a tub.

Oh, did Gregor owe him!!!!!

(Maybe make that 'OUCH! Did Gregor Owe him!')

Miles was off with a fleet to express Barrayaran displeasure at this misguided technological advancement to the Cetagandans, The smoking hole that was the Bharaputran Techno-city was the initial complaint from Gregor and the Council of Counts.

Since what did this to Ivan (and a dozen more) wasn't directly from Cetaganada, the complaint wasn't going to be as emphatic, Gregor said. Tho, the complaints from Beta Colony, Escobar, Illyrica, and old Earth would in total, be impressive.

Tej wasn't happy. With three little ones crying for Daddy, she'd be happy for Eta Ceta to be asteroid dust afterwards.

Gregor said the best option the Med Boffins had offered was to grow a clone for him, then do a brain transplant. They'd do the same with his personal bits, as well, so he'd still 'express' the same genetic mix, if needed. This would take at LEAST six years.

Six years in a tub of pea soup.

Blech.

Martya and her husband had come visiting; Enrique had a strong stomach, from working with bug guts for so long. Martya just hadn't ... looked...

Borgos had offered to grow a special version of his Cockroaches, super-duper sized for Ivan; to give him a body. There'd be plenty of room for his brain in the carapace; it'd be possible to tie his arms and legs into the bugs nervous system. he'd have to boost the size of the legs, and other bits, but it'd give Ivan some sort of body.

It'd be ready in a year, easy.

When Ekatarine had heard of this... she said she had the right name for it: - "Gregor's Samsa Project."

=====================

With a tip o' the hat to Kafka.


	2. All day sucker...-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivan has a revelation.

Floating in a tank of medical glycerine is boring.

Worse than laying in bed recovering.

His eyes and ears worked - somewhat; and he could speak - somewhat.

But everything else - not so somewhat.

Nurses and Techs visited him hourly; he couldn't say they visited him. Most didn't want to look in the tank; Ivan understood that.

He tried to have conversations with the nurses and Techs; some would talk with him, telling him about what was happening outside; sports results; the weather. One nurse gave him town gossip tidbits. 

That, Ivan relished the most.

Twice a day, a Tech came in and took a sample of the gel. The crate Ivan was in was gently rocked, to keep the filling in motion. The Tech explained that this helped keep the stuff fresh; oxygenated, and hydrated. His job was to monitor the chemical composition, and make adjustments.

Ivan, never curious about chemistry, asked what he gel was made of.

"Well, Glycerine, simple sugars, some special proteins, water, salt, a special mineral mix, some other things."

Ivan mulled this over a bit - then it hit him.

"You mean I'm in an super-sized _GUMMI BEAR?_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fixed the punchline. Now it works.....


	3. Baby's Bucket List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I proposed (long ago) that all babies _must_ hose down their fathers, especially when they're wearing a fancy dress uniform.
> 
> I tried to expand that into a 'must do' list, for the amusement (and education ) of new mothers. 
> 
> I'm not the right one to create a full list - but will accept suggestions!

Many of the Fanfics for the Vorkosigan Universe now feature infants; If it's not Gregor's kids, it's Miles, or Cordelia's, or ????

I postulated in one of my stories that all babies would do certain things to their parents; especially the fathers. This included anointing their uniforms - their common, ordinary undress greens AND their Class 1 fancy dress.

Visiting men, who get roped into infant duties, MUST be anointed. Extra points for high government ministers.

So, a list:

#1: Daddy gets it, both barrels, down the back of his uniform. (10 Points)

#2: Grandmama, the same. (15 Points)

#3: Grandpapa/Uncle/Aunt, down the back. (17 points)

On Holidays, when everyone is wearing their best, add 5 points

#4: In the face, liquid. (10 Points 1st time, 7 points each additional time)

#5: In the Face/Chest, solid. (12 points any time)

#6: When being held upright, as a surprise. (17 points)

#7: When asleep, especially after a good cry. (5 points)

#8: Just when you're ready for the stroller.... (5 points)

#9: First sentence "Ooooh, Poop!" (20 points) [Got that for Jeff Dunham]

#10: Give your papa pinkeye. (15 Points)

#11: Milk accident with Mama in public. (8 points)


	4. Plot Bunny playground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, Impsec provides it's own food, does it? That means they have a cafeteria and kitchen in every major (and many minor) facilities. That means....

An ordinary VBS municipal van pulled into the Impsec HQ parking lot. the autogates had opened when the driver had presented his ID card; the attending guard checking it on his scanner and everything showed green.

Once the van was parked, three men stepped out, the suited up on white protective suits, protective masks around their necks. The senior officer led the way, carrying a large equipment bag.

Several Impsec perimeter guards looked at the figures quizzically, but people in protective gear wasn't unusual around Impsec HQ.

The team of men came to the main staff entrance doors. The Impsec guards stiffened with suspicion; who were these interlopers?

The leader took a clipboard from under his arm. "Notice is hereby served on Imperial Security Headquarters that an unannounced food service inspection is underway, as allowed and required by Imperial statue 123-45b-15-A. Please stand aside."

One of the guards started frantically punching buttons on his phone set.

There's only one organization that Impsec fears - the Restaurant Inspectors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was stimulated by a casual remark in Rose Milburn's most recent chapter about Miles investigating things on the South continent. Mention is made that Impsec has it's own cook - which means a kitchen - and that means a health department certificate.
> 
> I doubt that Regent Aral (who had had to monitor the mess on his ships and the bases he operated) would allow self-certification for ANYBODY. Cordelia would have put her nose in it as well, based on her Captain's experience.
> 
> So, who gets to spring surprise 'bend 'em and spread 'em' visits on Impsec?
> 
> The fire Department and the health department.
> 
> Please, someone grab this idea and run with it.... Imperial Impsec gets humbled...


	5. Not gonna write this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was suggested that I plot a way to link the previous chapters into a coherent story.
> 
> I did.
> 
> I'm not writing it, except for the last paragraph.
> 
> (Gwynne, get a handkerchief)

The remaining flesh of Byerly Pierre Vorrutyer leaned back in the rain, not feeling the droplets as they landed and slid across the smooth plastic of his face. He howled into the storm, in pain; agony, despair. He screamed for his friend, Ivan Xav Vorpatril; had he still had tear ducts he'd have the tears mix with the rain. All he could do, with the newly delivered news on fire in his head, was suffer at loss of a beautiful girl. Byerly Vorrutyer, last of his house, could only add to the thunder in the sky.

And, far away, a woman with one eye, and a skull for a face, whose name meant 'Peace', gave the order to fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ivan and Byerly have just learned that Natalia Vorkosigan is a casualty of war, during anti-piracy operations with the Dendari.
> 
> Dono and his family died in the attack, an attempt to wipe out most of the Barrayaran government. Gregor and Laisa survived. 
> 
> Ivan is on his feet, in a 'spare' ba body provided by the Cetagandans while a permanent body is grown. 
> 
> Byerly was injured by the bioweapon, losing an arm, leg, and most of the skin from the left side of his body. He's covered by a plastic skin while replacement skin is grown. He's got a mechanical arm and leg.
> 
> Tej is off with the Dendari, learning to be XO under Elli.


	6. Big Boom, Little Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, why do people play nice with Earth?

The multi-planet flotilla arrived in orbit at Jackson's Whole with the mission of taming the pirate pesthole for all time. The recent acts of destruction and destructions by the Barons had become unforgivable. Fifteen planetary ambassadors had died in the last attack, a bio-technical plague released on Barrayar at the Emperor's Birthday party. 

The weapon had been created by Cetaganda; they had kept it under tight control until an unrestrained planetary governor had let a few nightmares get loose into the labs of Jackson's Whole. 

Now, a combined fleet of six navies, and three Mercenary fleets (hired by planets that didn't want to strip their local defenses) were in control of the mid and high orbits of the Whole. The space stations of the major houses had been taken, not without violence. The Mercenaries had the experience in such operations, leading the way and training others in the practice process of seizing an orbital platform. 

Now, it was a question of what to do on the surface. The senior Admirals, General, Diplomats and Mercenary Commanders met to plan the bloody task of assaulting, and holding a prepared planet.

Gallons of coffee and tea were consumed, with the Barrayarans leading the discussion. They had the deepest, broadest, and most current knowledge of planetary assault, from the years of trade fleet escort and defenses for Komarr. The states of the Hegen Hub were second in knowledge, closely followed by Marilac.

Beta Colony had a catalog of wonderful and terrifying weapons, great at orbital combat, but not much for ground assault.

The representative from Earth sat quietly for two days, until a lull in the debate let the room go quiet.

"Ah, the problem is that we don't have the proper equipment load to do a real planetary assault; is that correct?" Her uniform was pure white, with a limited amount of gold braid, she had few ribbons and medals in her collection.

After a series of nods and murmurs of 'Yes', she continued.

"I've got something available that should disturb the planetary defenses to a point that landing will be - if not easy - more certain. If I might be allowed?"

The Earth contingent was small, a frigate and a destroyer, plus a supply freighter - perhaps three hundred crew in full. They had done admirably during the assault of Prestene Station; their marines had seized control of the main power room and environmental division with ease; they were as well trained as any. 

After an hours' discussion, the Earth Admiral's offer was accepted. If it worked - wonderful, if it didn't, they weren't in a worse position.

The Earth command staff asked that all ships take orbit in the highest range - "This might disturb the lower, atmosphere skimming, orbits, best be cautious."

The Frigate took up orbit; it's shield absorbing a few shots from ground installations. The Barons still on the surface had agreed to allow Luigi Bharaputra to make a deal with the besieging force; but negotiations hadn't progressed.

The Frigate was in a 100 minute orbit, at the fifteen minute mark a white sphere released from the planet side of the craft. It matched the frigates position, in a relative sense, until it was deep in the atmosphere. Several missiles and plasma shots from the ground hit the sphere; doing nothing. The frigate drew ahead, it was below the horizon when the sphere touched the surface.

From the high orbits, the impact of the white sphere didn't disturb the soil; no crater was formed, no cloud of dirt thrown up. What was it? It wasn't solid - it had to be a very controlled energy structure; like ball lightning. The science and military intelligence staff were hard at work gathering all the data they could.

Fifty minutes later the Frigate was back on this side of Jackson's Whole. The Captain sent a message - "Expect weapon activation in ten minutes."

At one hundred minutes after release, a circle of soil vaulted up from the surface. Two kilometers in diameter, it jumped upwards at a colossal velocity. The space between it and the planet was filled with a rainbow of colored discharges. A sea of colored bolts springing up and down between the lifting disk and the planet. 

An atmospheric shock ring raced from the borders of the disk. A series of clouds formed, perfect circles to mark the pressure changes that were left in the wave of the ripple in the atmosphere. 

The disk rose; higher, higher, as a complete mass; until it reached five kilometers. It seemed to hesitate at the altitude, then dropped, smoothly and evenly. It gained speed; still fitting in the gaping circle it came from. This triggered a new atmospheric shock ring, more clouds forming across the globe.

When it impacted a ripple instantly formed around the perimeter, racing away at a speed visible from orbit. The ripples, like what form in water when a large stone is tossed in, must have been five hundred meters tall; churning and grinding the topsoil into nothing. The ring continued outwards, onward across the continent. Man-made structure, no matter what size, turned to rubble. 

The air filled with dust and storms; the water in the atmosphere had been so tortured by the events that all the water was squeezed out, to clean the dust and soil from the air. Huge lightning bolts shot randomly between the rings of clouds that marked the center of the impact.

As the sky above the continent cleared, a circle of churned earth was revealed; three hundred fifty kilometers across. No lakes, rivers, or habitation was visible; what had been high mountains were lower, but sharper, as the covering soil was gone. The seas were churning, the shock waves still tossing water high into the heavens.

The captain of the Earth Frigate messaged to all "That seemed to work as expected."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This, or something close to it, has been in my brain for a long time. 
> 
> WHY? Does everyone act nice to Beta Colony and Earth? Beta colony is the source of the most advanced weapons known, and Earth is respected as the home of humanity, but, really, what's really behind the politeness.
> 
> This is why Ceta and Nuevo Brazil hearken to missives from Terra. Earth 'terra-fies' them.
> 
> (800 Km is about the east-west distance across Texas. Drop one of those in Fredricksburg, and churn everything from El Paso to Texarkana, from the northern border of Oklahoma down to Brownsville.)
> 
> (In Europe, say goodby to France, Germany, and a big chunk or the southern UK. Australia, Ayers Rock is now a gravel mine.)
> 
> I wanted something that Kimball Kinnison, Gray Lensman, would say "That could be useful against a small Boskonian base."
> 
> Nadreck the Palanian would think "So wasteful and inefficient.. these hot blood beings are incapable of subtlety!"


	7. It's a bore....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Gregor makes a mistake about power - political, economic, physical - and Piotr decides it's time to teach Gregor about the responsibility of power by (finally!) teaching him about firearms.

Piotr has a long dialog describing a variety of projectile weapons, from a .22 caliber piston up to a 12 gauge shotgun.

A pig carcass gets holes poked in it.

Then - plasma weapons.

Said pig carcass gets toasted and fried.

\----------

"Last night -" Piotr glared at Gregor with the full power of his bushy eyebrows and hard eyes. "You said something very stupid - well, uneducated. Power doesn't come from the barrel of a gun; it comes from the response to what happens when that gun is fired. A gun, lying unused, is nothing. A gun, loaded, and in the hands of someone who is willing to use it - that creates political power."

"But my tutor said that was a quote from one of the most powerful warlord back in 20th Century Earth, a Chairman, or Captain Moo." He conquered one of the largest nations on earth at the time, and he had to know what he talked about. My tutor said he was a political warlord, who followed the lessons on Mr. Marx, the comedian."

"Your tutor, and that Mr. Mew, was wrong; power is from the using, and that's hard! a weapon. In a stack, or in an armory rack, a gun isn't anything - except for a dust and rust collector - it's no font of power. 

In a soldier's hands, loaded, and the soldier pointed in the right direction - that's power. Learning how to control and direct that sort of power is something you've got to learn. 

Today's lesson number one."

Piotr had been unlocking and lowering the tailgate on the scooter that had brought them to the firing range. He pulled a canvas bundle to the open tailgate; untying two straps that held in shut. "Get those crates over her, son; they're heavy - and don't bump them to hard. First lesson about firearms and weapons; Ammo and firearms are delicate, no matter how sturdy they look. Ammo is filled with explosives, Power pack have plenty of kilowatt hours. Bust them open, and you've got a world of trouble on your hands. 

Did you know you can jigger a stunner power pack to make it into a bomb? The locals fish by dropping them into the lake, then they scoop up the stunned fish and scoot before the wardens can catch them. Not sporting, but a quick way to get a week's worth of meals. So, be careful around weapons. they bite."

Inside the canvas roll were a dozen firearms; from small pistols to full size rifles and shotguns, their barrels smooth with a blue gleam in the morning light. There weren't any power weapons, no plasma pistols, nerve disruptors, needle guns, or plasma rifles. Just steel barrels, wooden and polymer furniture, and the scent of machine oil.

"Learning to control and be responsible for tools like this is the first and most important lesson about power. As emperor, your words and actions can hit with all the power - all the damage - of one of those rifle rounds; injuring, maiming, - killing. You never point a muzzle at anything you don't want to poke a hole in - you never pull the pin on a grenade unless you want to splatter something across the landscape; and you don't make jokes about putting someone in prison unless they've done something worth jail time. 

You can start wars with a slip of your tongue, and apologizing later won't remove the bullet holes or burn marks. You shoot your mouth off, and real bullets and real plasma bolts will fry targets. Power is a danger to everyone, and keeping it controlled, and owning up to the results is the biggest lesson you'll ever learns. I've got the same sort of power, here in District, being Count. You're getting three planets, someday, and they'll be your responsibility, just the way these mountains are mine."

Piotr leaned back on the tailgate, "I learned about the responsibility of power when Pierre Vorrutyer put a squad of soldiers into my care back in Dorca's day. We were chasing some horse thieves, who had raided one of Dorcas' horse farms, they'd made off with one of his prime studs. Pierre sent me and my squad off to take and hold a ford, a river crossing, to block the rustler's escape. Me, in charge of a dozen of Le Saingineaire's best throat cutters. I was thrilled to be in command, until we got to the ford, and then it was my job to decide on out disposition. Plenty of ordinary folks used the ford daily, the river was to wide to put a bridge in, and sitting in my saddle I realized that I had a big mouthful to chew. I couldn't just block the ford - proles needed to cross with their wagon loads of crops and supplies all the time. If I let even one of those stolen horses past, Pierre would have my hide.

The sergeant let me stew for a bit, when he suggested that we dismount and water the horses; and he chivied me into giving the order to make camp; the sergeant and corporals knew what to do. I gave the order, they did the work. 

But I, forever and ever, would be responsible for what those men did. If the rustlers came, I'd be the one reporting to Pierre about how his men - now MY men - responded. I had a pistol on my hip;" Piotr took a piston from the collection he'd brought; "This one, in fact. I'd loaded it that morning, and now these men, these experienced, lethal men, were like the cartridges in this pistol. I aimed them, and would pull their trigger, if I decided. If the pistol went off, or those men went into action, if was my choice, my responsibility. "

Piotr tossed the pistol for Gregor to catch. It was cold and heavy in his hands, thin lines of light reflected off the blue steel. He popped the magazine, to check if it was loaded, in imitation of how Piotr had done when he'd first picked up the pistol, earlier in the day. Empty. A box of cartridges was in the bed of the Quad, half empty from the shooting they'd done earlier. He racked the slide back - no round in the chamber. he looked at the magazine; it was empty.

Piotr watched Gregor closely. Gregor took a round from the box, fitting it carefully into the magazine. Piotr nodded, Gregor slowly fitted more rounds into the magazine. He held it up for Piotr's approval. "Like this?"

"Nicely done. Now, load your weapon, and take your place on the firing line."

Gregor had been on the firing line before, never holding a firearm he'd loaded himself. He faced the targets; steel plates on ropes and stands. He looked back at Piotr, careful to keep the muzzle pointing down into the dirt. Piotr came to stand behind Gregor; arms loose and relaxed. "Just as before, boy, take your time, just think of the target you're aimin' at. This pistol'll kick more than the other ones, but take your time, and remember the process. Breath, aim, slack, squeeze. Fire when ready - try the target in the middle - the one one the rope."

Gregor took his stance; holding the pistol with both hands, as he'd been shown. 

-hold it steady; get the sights lined up; all the tabs even with each other - breath in; keep everything even - slowly squeeze the trigg- 

ROAR! His hands took the hammerblow - his arms spasmed up. The flash left a ghost in his vision;


	8. Mysterious Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Question posed on the Lois List: what would you do if the Vorkosigans arrived on your doorstep TODAY?
> 
> Assume it's Aral, Cordelia, Miles, Mark, and Armsmen Pym and Roic.

The email was weird. "Would you like to try some maple mead from the Vorkosigan's own meadery?

The sender's address was from Hotmail - in itself a reason to dismiss it as spam; but the name was a curiosity. 'Adm.Aral.Vorkosigan@hotmail.com'.

This _had_ to be a joke from someone on the Lois List. Just had to be...

The current traffic on the list didn't track with that; nobody was running a joke-filled thread, so why harvest my name for a laugh?

A reply would be cheap, so i sent it. 

"Yes, I'd like some. Got any bug butter or some of Ma Kosti's Maple Ambrosia?"

If this is a scam, it's an odd one...

========================

The next day, a reply. 

"Meet me at Railhead Bar Be Que in Willow Park at 1600 tomorrow. I'll be in a floral shirt. You should know what I look like.

Admiral Aral Vorkosigan, (ret)"

Whoever he was, he likes good BBQ. 

==========================

At 4 PM - 1600 hours military time, I pulled into the lot at Railhead. With the corona virus lockdown, and the social distancing rules, I put on my facemask; a cheap one from the Dialysis center. Why buy when they give me one?

There wasn't a waitress up front to seat me; just a sign 'Take a set, please don't sit at a table we've got marked off.' I started looking for a man - maybe a couple - with him wearing a loud floral shirt. i also looked for an obvious ex-sergeant type, tall, with short, grizzled gray hair. The seating was split across three big rooms, so I had to wind thru a mini maze.

I found the most likely target in the back corner of the patio room. He was sitting with a tall, stylish woman with mixed red and gray hair - long hair. She had a basket of fried pickles and a serving of potato salad in front of her, along with a schooner of beer. He was plug-like and wide, a linebacker. Multicolored tropical shirt snug on his frame. Sitting close by were two ex-sergeants, one decidedly older than the other, but both very trained in close protection. They both aimed themselves at me, in a virtual way, as I came close.

The man had a full basket of ribs, onion slices, and pickles on the table in front of him, partially eaten; and a large frosted pitcher of beer. I'd eaten at this BBQ joint, the ribs were one of their better items; I had to give the man credit on his choice from the menu.

He and i locked eyes for a moment. "Aral, V?

"Richard M?"

"Planning on having Maple ambrosia for desert? It's not on the menu, but it'd be a good finish after those ribs."

"Didn't bring any, but a splash of maple mead in this beer does good." His voice was a rumble, with a slavic twist to the vowels. 

"I've got to be careful about drinking to much," I rolled by left arm over to show the long scar where a vein had been excavated up to allow access for dialysis. "I keep what I drink or eat for longer than I'd like. Lady Cordelia, I presume?"

The redhead nodded. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Molpus. We've got to be cautious, you understand. This is not a safe situation, for anyone."

-Ah - yes-, I thought. -The government would go ape if a UFO landed on the White House lawn, or in the center of Red Square, or in Hyde Park. The Chinese would slap a news shutdown at once, if it landed in Tienanmen square. No government would behave nice. None-.

"I understand; since both of you were in the Barrayaran Government, you both know what would happen. Slam a news blackout, shove the visitors in cells, and start ripping the ship into small, researchable bits. That right?"

"Yes, " said Aral; " My father had stories about how the first ship of explorers sent everything into a panic. Dorca tossed dozens of people in jail, to keep the secret; they were released once the official pronouncement was made, but that wasn't helpful to those who had been in. The same thing would happen to us - and we don't want that. That's why we found you; your mind is open to our being real outsiders, and you can sympathize with us. "

"Ah - so what do you really want? I can't see this being a fancy con game; I'm not a proper mark - and I'm not introducing you to the really wealthy people I know without solid evidence. So, what do you really want?"

Aral and the woman looked at each other for a solid minute. Cordelia answered. "We have to refuel. There's only about one landing left in the shuttle; it can land, but won't liftoff if it does. We need methane - about 30,000 liters in liquid forms, five thousand liters of water, preferably distilled or low mineral content, and two hundred kilowatt hours of electricity. At a minimum, we need eight thousand liters of methane, one thousand liters of water, and twenty kilowatt-hours of electricity. With that, we can lift off, and dock with the ship. We could use more rations, for ten people for forty days, but that's the least of our problems. Can you help with any of that?"

"Ah - the food isn't a problem; fresh vegs and fruit, then freeze dried, maybe. The electricity - a portable generator and a barrel of gas will do that; but the methane - that's a real problem. Water's just a matter of buying a cistern tank and putting it on a trailer - simple in principle. But the fuel..... that's gonna take some thought."


	9. Grandma never-was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm exploring what happened to Aral's Grandmother - Prince Xav's wife. We know she survived Yuri; then departed never to return.
> 
> The number of loose ends here could fill a broom.

Initial story idea: Outline

Gregor meets with the Beta ambassador soon after his ascension to the camp stool. diplomatic pleasantries are exchanged, then Gregor gets to the core matter.

"With Aral as Prime minister, he's going to be visiting beta colony and Escobar; the arrest warrants out for him and Lady Cordelia have to be squashed. what's that going to take?"

Diplomat hems and haws; they go over the charges - Cordelia's AWOL, assault on the Psychiatrist, etc. Aral for war Crimes by Barrayaran troops. Diplomat tries to bring up Komarr - Gregor slaps that down reminding him of the trials held after the fall of the ministry of Political Education, documents showed that Minister Grishnov ordered the death of the Komarran Oligarchs/ since Grishnov is dead, it's a null case.

The War Crimes at Escobar were done under Prince Serg and Admiral Ges Vorrutyer - both are dead, so another null case. Aral stopped the abuses at the POW camp, executing the former commander and others - so that's a null case.

Gregor gets a bit offensive, stating that Beta colony has maintained the charges to have grounds to make trouble for the Regent - now that he's gone, shouldn't Beta act responsibly and close the files? Gregor's going to raise the same matter with the Escobarans - let's clear the air to start a new diplomatic era between the three planets.

Be very embarrassing if the Barrayaran PM was offended during a state visit by some idiot trying a citizen's arrest - more on the Betan gov than on him....

Betan ambassador says he'll take Gregor's arguments back to the Betan President, and hope for the best.

\--Note: Cordelia's title is Colonel the Captain the Lady Cordelia Naismith Vorkosigan, awarded the Vorbarra Cross with Olive Leaf and Rose (grade II) with two Service Injury awards (Bad luck badges). She's Colonel of a Regiment of Barrayaran Special forces (Honorable), Captain (retired) of the Betan Astro Survey, and wife of Lord Aral Vorkosigan--

==========Part II================

On Beta colony.

Princess Victoria Harmann Vorbarra Bo, former wife of prince Xav Cletus Vorbarra (deceased) is reading the monthly intelligence report she gets from the Barrayaran Embassy. She still has a security detail from the Embassy, now just a single Lieutenant who is her main contact with the Barrayaran Government.

\--We don't have a name for Xav's wife, so I'm inventing one.... So sue me....--

Several years after Prince Xav died, She met and wedded a Betan national, Theodore Xi Bo. They ignored her status with Barrayar, and had several kids together.

She reads that PM Aral Vorkosigan and his wife, Lady Cordelia, would be visiting Beta Colony on a diplomatic mission in six months, for a big trade conference. This would be Gregor's government first major presence at a major Nexus event. (previously, Aral had been Regent, now he's kinda demoted as Prime Minister.) As Regent, Aral had been a place keeper, now Gregor can change the game as he sees fit.

The Princess has been keeping a very low profile; she decided to poke her head out of the sand this time.

"Tell the embassy I'd like to visit with my Grandson, and meet his wife."

======================Part III===========

Interlude

Man arrives at Komarr high station, presents his passport.

Alarm lights flash.

He's one of Xav's remaining Armsmen, returning to Barrayar from Beta, where he's been serving Princess Victoria Xav for decades. He's retired, wanting to return to Barrayar for his remaining years (the Outdoors! YES!)

He gets the whole unexpected VIP treatment, Standing orders from Ezar are that any 'independent' Armsmen are to be sent downslope to Barrayar ASAP, for debrief by Ezar himself.

Ezar will decide what to do with them - usually a grace and favor apartment in the boondocks.

He resists, delaying trip downslope until he can talk with Komarran banker about investing his savings (2 million Beta Dollars - about 4.5 million Barrayar marks. He's flush). He also wants to see a doc on Komarr.

With some pushing, he gets his delay, sees doc and banker.

Then downslope to Barrayar, whisked to apt in the Residence for the night, then interview with Ezar.

**Author's Note:**

> These are idea that _don't really work_. Amusing, stupid, half-baked - but there's something in them that's worth preserving.


End file.
